So it had gone for the last four days as he tried to catch up to his legion. During that time, he had stopped only once, to fill his waterskin at an oasis. He had taken his meals along the way, catching snakes or locusts as he walked, then devouring them raw. Rikus had not even slept, for his legion had left such an obvious trail of churned sand and overturned stones that he could follow it by the light of Athas’s two moons.
Such exertion would have killed anyone else. In muls, however, the hardy constitution of the dwarven father enhanced the natural resilience of the human mother. When the need arose, such as now, they could drive themselves for days without sleep or rest. Still, as his eyelids drooped and a yawn rose to his jaws, it occurred to Rikus’s fatigue-numbed mind that he was dangerously close to collapse.
The sonorous notes of another morbid beast-song rolled across the plain, reminding the mul that he did not dare fall asleep. Less than a hundred feet ahead, the dark form of a lirr scrambled up a jumble of boulders and fixed its amber eyes on Rikus. As the mul watched, the saurian creature stood upright, using its thorny tail to cling to a boulder and balance its torso over its rear feet. The thing was about the size of a dwarf, with a tubular body armored by diamond-shaped scales as rough and hard as the stones upon which it stood.
Rikus altered his course so that it would take him directly toward the beast, calling, “Come on and fight!”
Though the mul had intended to shout the challenge, nothing more than a long croak escaped his swollen throat. He had run out of water two mornings ago. Now, well into his second complete day of hard traveling with nothing to drink, his tongue and lips were so distended that he could not choke even the simplest words past them.
Knowing from experience that the lirr would not let him within sword’s reach, Rikus grabbed a large stone and hurled it at his would-be devourer. The mul’s aim was as dismal as his arm was weary. The rock clattered to the ground well wide and far short of the beast.
The lirr flared its spiked throat-fan and snarled at Rikus, showing a mouthful of serrated teeth. The mul threw another rock. This time the aim was better, but the beast swatted the projectile away with a clawed forefoot. It remained on its rock, angrily slashing at the air, taunting the weary gladiator with hisses.
When the lirr let Rikus close to ten feet without fleeing, the gladiator began to hope it would be stupid enough to fight him. Electing not to telegraph his attack by drawing the Scourge of Rkard, the mul lashed out with his staff.
The blow stuck the lirr in its scale-covered torso. Not flinching, the beast flicked its long tongue across Rikus’s face. The mul’s cheeks stung as though he had been slapped.
Rikus tried to yell a curse at the beast, but barely croaked instead. He swung his staff again. This time the pole sliced through the air without hitting anything, for the lirr had already jumped off the rock pile and was scampering away on all four legs.
Do not let them harass you, stupid dwarf, Tamar said, her voice echoing inside the mul’s head. They want you to waste energy.
Be silent, Rikus ordered, resuming his weary march. You have nothing to say that interests me in the least.
What interests you does not matter, the wraith snapped. Listen to me or die.
Your threats mean nothing, the mul returned, shaking his head in an effort to keep his eyes open. If you’re going to kill me, do it-otherwise, stay quiet.
You will do as I say! Tamar roared. You will kill the lirrs tonight, before you collapse.
Rikus dragged his numb leg over the sharp edge of a large rock. I’m not going to collapse, he responded. We’re too close to my legion.
You have claimed the same thing every night of this trek, Tamar said.
Rikus used his staff to point at a stone that had been overturned by the passage of his warriors. The wind had not yet piled any sand around it, suggesting that it had been disturbed quite recently. Tonight is different.
And if you are wrong? What then?
Then I will die, and you will be trapped with my corpse-at least until a lirr swallows you, Rikus said.
When Tamar fell silent, Rikus smiled. Over the last four days, his fear of the wraith had turned to hatred. Her imperious attitude reminded him more and more of how he had been treated in his days as a slave, and the mul was determined that she would have to kill him before he let her enslave him.
Despite his hatred of the wraith, Rikus was not eager to die, especially before he avenged himself on Maetan and recovered the Book of the Kemalok Kings. Therefore, as he continued to struggle over the rocky plain, he considered her advice. If he was wrong about catching his legion tonight, he would collapse from thirst shortly after the sun rose. That, he knew, was when the lirrs would move in to attack. The mul had to admit that there was a certain wisdom in the wraith’s suggestion.
After dragging himself onward until he came to the base of the knoll, the mul began to stagger more than usual. Though the slope was a gentle one, the rocks covering it were much larger, and the effort of lifting his leg even a little higher made his thigh muscles burn with fatigue. Just as he realized that he was more weary than he had thought, Rikus shifted the Scourge of Rkard’s scabbard forward, then stumbled and nearly fell.
All around the mul, the lirrs cried out in excitement, filling the night with their gruesome songs. The beasts began to circle their weary prey in tightening rings, flicking their long tongues in his direction and flaring their large throat flaps. For the first time, Rikus was able to count their number: six beasts, not as many as he feared, but more than he could slay easily.
The mul tripped again when his foot refused to rise high enough to clear a large, glassy rock. He plunged to the ground, barely managing to break his fall with his walking stick. Immediately, the desire to sleep flooded over him and his mouth opened in a terrific yawn.
The lirrs roared in unison, then moved closer.
Rikus tried to spring back to his feet, but found that it was all his weary muscles could do to lift them.
If you can barely stand now, how much worse will it be the next time you fall? asked Tamar. Lure them into striking range now-before you can neither walk nor fight.
Seeing the wisdom of the suggestion, Rikus slipped his good hand down to his sword hilt, then lay his head on his walking staff.
Instead of rushing in to attack, the lirrs fell silent and dropped to the ground, their amber eyes watching the mul on all sides. There they remained, absolutely motionless and so quiet that, even gripping the Scourge of Rkard, Rikus heard only the soft hiss of their panting.
Close your eyes, advised Tamar. I think the lirrs can see that they’re open.
I’ll fall asleep, Rikus said. The stones beneath his body, still warm from the day’s heat, were soothing the mul’s sore muscles and taunting him with relaxation.
It will not matter, Tamar said. With the Scourge in your hand, you will hear them coming.
Eager to draw the lirrs into the battle, Rikus closed his eyes. In his mind, he began repeating, Stay awake, stay awake.